"You're errand running? Since when?"
"Since Granddad's still in a state over you marrying Prudence, and Mama wants me to keep him out of everyone's hair until he gets over it—which is looking like next to never."
Brice set his hat back on his head. "That's not what I want to hear. Pru and I are racking our brains, trying to find ways to bring the families together. You know, stop the bickering so we can have some kind of peace in our lives and in this town."
"I think you and Pru might be the only ones in that frame of mind. I sure don't see anyone else in either family trying to bring the Randolphs and McCormacks together, and your marriage has done zilch to improve the situation. Though people are plumb amazed you two are getting along."
"Tell me, what's your opinion of getting both families to work on a shelter at Pine Tree Ridge?"
Derek stopped dead in his tracks, then laughed.
"Now, just think about this for a minute before you go off half-cocked. Everyone in town uses Pine Tree Ridge. The McCormacks and Randolphs are civic-minded families. Don't you think there's a chance they'd work together on this project?"
"About as much chance as a hothouse surviving a hailstorm. The only thing your idea has going for it is that Pine Tree Ridge is about fifty acres in size, giving everyone plenty of room for fighting and—"
"No more fighting, that's the whole point. If we could get a few people, maybe even one person, to cooperate in this plan we have, it would be more than we had a week ago." Brice gave Derek a meaningful look. "Just one person, little brother."
"Me?" Derek's eyes widened, and he poked his own chest. "You want me to get along with the Randolphs?"
"Pru said how nice you were to her, and that you wanted to come for dinner and all."
"That was just showboating. Besides, dinner with you and Pru isn't like getting chummy with all the Randolphs."
Brice stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. "Okay, little brother, let's cut to the chase, here. What's it going to take for you to get neighborly with the Randolphs? Name your price—and I know you have a price."
"I get my truck back."
"I can do that."
"And you pay for new tires. Those oversize ones with white lettering."
Brice pulled in a breath. "I can spring for the tires with lettering."
"Well, doggies." Derek brother punched Brice. "This is working out real good. I've had my eye on Sally Randolph for some time and just couldn't figure out a way of meeting up with her. Since you and Prudence have got this shindig cooked up, now it'll be easy as shooting fish in a barrel to spend some time with her. Thanks, Brice."
"What happened to that bit about not wanting to get along with the Randolphs, huh?"
"Hey, I smelled an opportunity heading my way, that's all." Derek gave Brice a cheeky grin. "Always hold out for the best offer is what you've taught me, and you're one heck of a good teacher."
"Yay for me."
"Besides, you ran off with my truck. You owe me." Derek folded his arms across his chest and looked smug as a bull at breeding time.
"Since you're so all-fired good at getting your way, what are the chances of you persuading your cousins to be neighborly to the Randolphs, too?"
"Now, that there's a tall order." Derek stroked his chin and half closed his eyes in thought. It was the look of someone who knew he had the upper hand and was enjoying it immensely. "My truck would kick butt if it had a sunroof, and maybe a CD player. Always wanted a CD player with heavy bass. Bet Sally Randolph would be mighty impressed with a sunroof and CD player."
Brice ground his teeth. "For one sunroof and one CD player, you better do some serious talking to your cousins. But you're not to breathe one word till Friday."
Derek grinned. "Consider it done."
Brice watched Derek cross the street and head over to Boots and Saddles Country. Maybe now that he got Derek and the cousins on his side, the Pine Tree Ridge idea would work. At least, it had a chance. If Pru could get some help with her family, the odds of Randolphs and McCormacks at least tolerating each other would be at its best in seventy years. Not bad, not bad at all.
Brice crossed the street, heading toward Hoof and Hardware to see about nails and fittings to make the shelter, picnic tables and play equipment. He would stop at the lumberyard on his way home and get things lined up there. Hmm, he was actually starting to think of the Dillard place as home. Or was he starting to think of Pru as home?
When he reached the sidewalk, he spotted Bob Randolph coming toward him, a scowl plastered on his face. Pru's dad didn't look any more reconciled to his daughter marrying Brice than was Granddad Wes. What would ever make them change?
"Randolph." Brice greeted him.
"McCormack. I want to know what in tarnation you've done with my Prudence."
"What I've done—"
"She's not at work today. No doubt you've got her hog-tied up somewhere, keeping her—"
"Hold on a minute, now. First off, I don't hog-tie women. If Pru isn't at work, she must have a good reason. Didn't she call?"
"’Course she called. Handed me some cock-and-bull story about needing to wait for furniture being delivered, and varnishing the kitchen cabinets while she was waiting." Bob's face turned deep red. "You got my Prudence varnishing for you and doing your fetching and carrying, and I won't have it, you understand. That girl's the apple of my eye, my whole life, my dearest treasure on earth." He poked Brice in the chest. "And you're—"
"Did you ever tell Pru that?"
Bob Randolph's finger stopped mid-poke. "Huh? Tell her what?"
"Tell her just what you told me."
"Prudence knows how I feel about her. She doesn't need to be told."
"Randolph." Brice glared. It was the kind of glare he used in business dealings when someone in a fancy suit tried to pull a fast one on him. "Tell her. She needs to be told. She needs to know her father appreciates her."
"Don't you try to tell me what to say to my own daughter."
Brice's glare hardened just a touch. "I am telling you. 'Bout time someone did." Brice turned and left Bob standing in the middle of the sidewalk, yelling something about Prudence being a Randolph, and how no McCormack was going to tell Randolphs how to live their lives.
Brice decided he shouldn't have wasted his breath confronting Bob Randolph. It wouldn't do any good. Randolph wasn't about to change his ways. And even if Brice told Pru all the great things her dad had just said about her, it wasn't nearly as meaningful as if she heard it from her father directly.
There was nothing Brice could do about Bob Randolph and his pigheaded attitude, but Brice could follow his own advice. No matter what happened between him and Pru from here on out, he'd always remember that she'd been a real trooper through some pretty dismal times. Not only had she taken on fixing up the old house, but also she'd taken on some of his problems. He'd also remember Prudence Randolph made the best darn fried chicken he'd ever put in his mouth.
He wasn't going to be like Bob Randolph and assume Pru knew he appreciated all these things about her. He intended to tell her, as soon as he got back to the ranch.
* * *
Prudence got back in Brice's truck and waved goodbye to Sunny, who stood in the doorway of her house. As Prudence headed out the circular drive and back to the main road, she thought over the plan she and Sunny had concocted this afternoon, after deciding on the picnic menu.
Sunny, who was the president of Serenity's Garden Society, thought it might help if the membership planted deciduous trees, bushes and flowers at Pine Tree Ridge on Sunday. She reasoned that if more people than the McCormacks and Randolphs showed up for the get-together and took part, there was a better chance of keeping confrontations to a minimum. Also, the families wouldn't be so tempted to tear the hell out of the place if there was an audience present who had put in a lot of work to make things look nice.
Prudence smiled to herself. The Pine Tree Ridge plan was coming along just fine. If Randolphs and McCormac
ks could be civil for a few hours, that would be wonderful, a definite breakthrough, a marked ending to the feud and a beginning for her and Brice.
She had never felt about another man the way she felt about Brice. Oh, she'd dated guys, even went steady with Chase Billows for a year in college. That had ended when they graduated, and their careers and families were more important than their relationship. But now, it was different. Was there anything more important than Brice?
She did know that no one she'd ever met came close to being the man, the cowboy, that Brice McCormack was. He was truly a hero—her hero—for saving her on the roof, and for encouraging her to light that fire. Most guys she'd met wouldn't have cared one way or the other. But Brice did. He was … sensitive—that was a real surprise. And the fact that he wasn't a Randolph didn't matter diddly.
When Prudence turned onto the two-track, she saw that the workmen—along with all their pounding, sawing and sanding—were gone for the day. But the dusty Lincoln with the RR-1 license plate was parked at the front of the house. Her father was waiting for her. A groan crept up her throat and slipped out through clenched teeth. Her insides knotted. She wasn't up to another confrontation with her father right now, and she was sure that's what this was all about. He'd want her to go home with him, probably give her a list of reasons. Then he'd demand that she leave with him, because she was a Randolph and that's what was expected of her.
She couldn't go, of course. Make that she wouldn't go. It had nothing to do with Judge Willis's marriage edict or the feud, or the fact that her relatives could end up in jail. The simple truth was, she didn't want to go home … because she was already there.
"Prudence, I need to talk to you," her father said, after she got out and closed the truck door behind her.
He'd obviously been waiting for her for a while. This was very bad. He'd had time to prepare his case. Bob Randolph was excellent at preparing arguments that got people to think the way he did. He was a natural-born litigator if there ever was one.
He said, "I need—"
"Dad, I know you need help since I'm not around as much right now. Uncle Ralph's son passed the bar last week. He's a tax attorney. He's bright and able, much better at taxes than I am, and he can't wait to start—"
"I don't give a hang about the taxes. It's that dang-blasted husband of yours. I ran into him in town." Her dad's face was flushed. He yanked his perfectly knotted silk tie loose from his perfectly starched white shirt, letting the tie hang crookedly around his neck. Heavens to Betsy, what did Brice say to make her dad look like this?
"Dad, Brice is under a lot of stress. You're under a lot of stress. You have to cut each other some slack."
"Stress is no blamed excuse for what he did. That … that man you up and married against my better judgment is a horse's behind, a nincompoop, a total idiot. He had the gall to suggest that you don't know you're the apple of my eye and the best child a father could want."
She backed up till she connected with the truck, and held on to it for support. Her brain felt fuzzy. "I … I am?"
"Well, confound it, of course you are, and for that addle-brained McCormack cowboy to suggest you don't know it is an outrage. Though, I must say, he does seem to like you well enough. I'll give him credit for having good taste in that department. Anyway, I just wanted you to understand what kind of man you're married to."
"I think I do. Thanks for watching out for me, and thanks for coming all the way out here."
"I'm heading on home now. Just wanted to make sure you're all right and to tell you our back door's open when you come to your senses and leave this hovel McCormack's got you staying in. I intend to protect you, Prudence, since you don't seem to be in your right mind these days. You are my daughter and a Randolph and the future head of the Randolph family."
"I don't need protecting, Dad. Brice and I are doing fine. Didn't you notice that the front porch is coming along real nice, and the stone chimney's being remortared? Look at that pile of shingles—" She pointed to the stack by the scaffold. "We'll have a new roof by next week. And I'm having a bay window installed."
"Humph. It's still a McCormack dump."
"It's my dump, Dad. Brice deeded it to me, remember?"
"Be careful of him, girl. I mean it, now."
She watched her father walk toward his car. He cared. He really, really cared. Beyond family and obligation, he cared what happened to her personally, as his daughter. Deep down, she had suspected as much, but she'd never felt positive until this very minute. "Wait. Wait a minute."
She ran over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "You're a pretty great dad. You know that? In fact, you're an excellent dad." She hugged him for all she was worth. And right now, that felt like quite a lot.
A very untypical cockeyed smile covered her dad's face. Then he winked at Prudence, which was not like her dad, either. He got in his car and drove off, and Prudence watched the dust from the two-track follow the Lincoln as it bumped its way in retreat.
Her eyes welled with tears and a lump lodged in her throat. She sniffed and swiped the back of her hand across her runny nose. "Well, Brice McCormack, you had to go stick your nose in where it didn't belong, didn't you." She sniffed again. "Just wait till you get home."
* * *
She didn't have long to wait before she heard Brice calling her name as he tramped up the stairs. "Pru? Where are you?"
"In here." She fluffed the pillow and dropped it on top of the yellow cotton sheet she'd just smoothed over the new mattress.
"Pru," he called as he made his way toward her, "I like that new floor lamp and leather couch. It looks like the Ross clan rewired most of the downstairs and the new windows— Whoa." He stopped in the doorway. "Now, what do we have here?"
She gave him a quick glance. His jeans were clean, his shirt pressed, his boots free of mud splotches. Her heartbeat kicked up two notches just at the sight of him. Either he'd been in town on business, or he'd managed to teach those cows of his some manners about getting people dirty. His hands were behind his back, and a secret smile played on his lips. Ah, those lips, that smile. What was her cowboy up to now? She liked that "her cowboy" part a lot.
She fluffed another pillow and said, "I know we've been without one of these newfangled contraptions for a while, cowboy, but this here is what's called a bed. A brass, queen-size, pillow-top mattress bed. It has no similarities to a sleeping bag whatsoever, and I should tell you that most people consider that a very good thing."
He grinned. "You've really cleaned this place up. What did you do with all the boxes of stuff that were in here?"
She nodded toward the corner. "I went through them. Tossed some in the trash and kept some of the good finds for the Garden Society's annual Button and Bows Vintage Sale. I found some old spurs you might like, and there are a ton of books in the closet that I haven't gotten to." She stopped and looked at Brice. "Did you know Grandma Eulah stayed here with the Dillards for a while? She left behind some books and letters from her parents, who were traveling in Europe. They're in a little box. Thought I'd run them over to her later on. They're almost forty years old—they've got to bring back some memories for her."
"Probably some bad memories, too, living so close to Wes. Can't imagine those two ever getting along. There must have been some mighty tall fighting and squabbling when they laid eyes on each other, with her living so close by. Just getting them within a hundred feet of each other now is like throwing a match on dry leaves."
Brice stroked his chin. "Tell me, Pru, are more beds on the way?"
"This is it for right now. I decided ordering another bed could give the gossips in town the idea there's a need for more beds at the Randolph-McCormack house." She returned to fluffing the pillows. "That's not the impression we want to create. Newlyweds only have one bed on their minds." She glanced at him again. "Do you have a problem with that?" She put down the pillow and looked directly at him. "Do we have a problem with that?"
"Problem? With just one
bed? Hell, I think it's pretty damn terrific."
"I'm serious, Brice."
"Oh, sweetheart, so am I."
Her stomach flipped, but she forced herself to think of their predicament. "Brice, there's more to this than just sleeping together. What if we can't figure out a way to end the feud? What if the families never see eye-to-eye? If they don't get along, we'll never be able to work things out, because we're committed to them till someone shovels dirt on our graves. Do you think we should start something between us that we may never be able to finish?"
"It's already started, Pru." He leaned against the door frame, looking sexy as all get-out. "Remember in Casablanca when Bogie told Ingrid they'd 'always have Paris'? Well, you and I will always have the brass bed."
"I'm trying to be serious, here."
His eyes darkened a shade, and his smile faded. "Let's not. For once in our very structured, planned, responsibility-driven lives, let's not. Family circumstances got us into this—it's our right to enjoy it while we can. And if Lady Luck smiles our way, we'll end this damn feud and sleep in this bed for the rest of our lives." He shrugged. "Besides, I don't think you should have to sleep on the hard floor in the sleeping bag, when I'm up here all warm and comfortable."
He ducked when she flung the pillow at him. "Hey, careful there. I bring presents."
"What kind of presents? Chili fries? Hot wings?"
"All day I was thinking about getting you a new eggplant suit. But I got to tell you, Pru, I'm not partial to eggplants or you in suits. Eggplant tastes like fried sponge, and you in suits is not what I like. Fact is, I like you in nothing at all." He ducked when she threw the next pillow, then continued. "So, I got you something else, instead. Something that reminds me of you when you're out here on the ranch." He brought his hands from behind his back and tossed a black Stetson onto the middle of the bed. "You're not a city girl anymore, that's for sure. You're a cowgirl, a damn fine cowgirl who's taken on a lot of work out here. A cowgirl needs a hat."
She planted her hands on her hips, looking from the hat to Brice. "How exactly do you mean 'cowgirl'?"
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